


Reflections

by rexrerezzed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexrerezzed/pseuds/rexrerezzed
Summary: In which Flynn and Clu contemplate their appearances.
Relationships: Clu (Tron) & Kevin Flynn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> This is a braided essay, except I broke the rules, so all moments in this story aren't in chronological order and aren't directly connected to each other.
> 
> Currently un-beta read, so all errors are my own.

_“The cycles haven't been kind, have they?”_

_“Oh, you don't look so bad!”_

* * *

It was a perfect mirror image of himself. Flynn didn’t even know if that was going to work! And it did, and now here he was, pulled out of a sheet of glass like Flynn was making friends with reflections. Down to the circuit running down their jackets, the two figures in the dark seemed to be one in the same, and looked the part too.

“You are Clu.”

The program doesn’t blink, “I am Clu.”

“You will create the perfect system.”

“I will create the perfect system.”

Flynn chuckles before taking Clu under his arm and towards the vast blankness of the Grid, “Together we're gonna change the world, man.”

* * *

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder how you can tell us apart so quickly,” Flynn throws his hands behind his head with a yawn. 

“What do you mean? You’re two completely different beings,” Shaddox spoke, “Not to mention you’re a User and he’s a Likeness Utility.” Clu frowns at the word choice. The trio stood atop one of their latest creations, an (at least) eighty story building with one broad circuit that split into four as it ran down the height, looking out into their newest work-in-progress sector.

Flynn huffs a laugh, “No, man, I mean—” He gestures down his own body, and then Clu’s, with one hand as he rezzes a screen tablet in the other, “We look the same.”

Shaddox raises a brow, “In your renders? Sure, there’s some resemblance. But you’re still quite different.”

"For example," Clu speaks up, plucking the screen from Flynn's hands, " _I_ actually _want_ to complete today's work for the city, and the Creator _doesn't_." 

Clu starts typing away very seriously as Flynn gapes for a second before the User splits into a hearty laugh, “ _Stranger and stranger._ ” 

* * *

Gold. That’s what he picked. 

Something richer than the yellows that viruses took to, something that— what had Flynn said? 

_It’s to show power, or dedication._

Clu chose gold.

Clu would not betray the Grid. 

Not to mention, it complimented his hair wonderfully.

* * *

Flynn could see the age in himself. It was slow, but it was there. A slow pull down in his brows, new lines on his skin, a growing shake in his grip— he didn’t like it.

His hair had always been a mess, but even more so now than ever. He couldn’t be bothered to clean it up in any way. It’s long, touching the back of his neck, and it’s starting to look peppery (but that just might be Flynn looking too closely). 

Truth be told, Flynn didn’t really want to clean his hair up at all. He’d seen enough of himself with hair swept back for a lifetime. And he wouldn’t mind growing into peppery hair, could go for some sort of space wizard aesthetic for a change, pretend to be someone who knew what they were doing all along.

Seems like now might be a good time to try a new lifestyle.

It’s not like he had anything else taking up his time right now anyway.

* * *

Clu squints at the new accessory on the User's hand, "What is that made of? I've never seen anything like it before."

“Oh? It’s _gold_ , man,” Flynn put his hand up, “A shiny User world metal, super precious. Anyone who’s important has it on them at some point— crowns, rings, chains, bracelets, all sorts of accessories or in just plain old bars. It’s worth a lot. It’s to show power.” He tuts to himself, “None of that has a place here.”

Clu scrutinises the User, “Then why bring it here?” He looks pointedly at the new ring on Flynn’s finger.

Flynn glances at his hands again, expression getting soft, “Oh, well… Rings like this… you’re not supposed to remove them that often. It’s a show of…,” he takes in a breath slowly, “dedication or devotion, I guess. The idea that you'd do anything for what it stands for. So, I don't like taking it off too much."

Clu hums in consideration, "An interesting symbol."

Flynn smiles, "Yeah." He shakes his head lightly, "I'll tell you more later. We gotta get to the worksite now, don't want to keep the others waiting."

* * *

Clu’s reflection was distorted in every surface in Flynn’s safehouse. He hated it. 

Everywhere he looked, all Clu saw was himself, all wrong. Too long, short, sharp, rounded, none of it was him. The shining objects on the table present his face to himself as if he was some sort of joke.

Contorted, like… Like Flynn was here, mocking him. 

_You? Create the perfect system? Ha._

Clu. Clu saw himself everywhere in Flynn’s safehouse. He saw his whole ~~runtime~~ _life_ appear before him. He was pulled from surfaces like these, he knew that as he observed the light as it shone off the crystal hanging above the table. Two metallic bits, chrome and _gold._ One in the same, but somehow separate.

Signs of Clu were everywhere.

And Flynn was nowhere to be found.

* * *

“Looks shorter?”

Clu motions to his own hair, then to Flynn’s new cut, comparing the two, “Looks much shorter.”

“Looks better though, right?”

Clu makes a face.

Flynn snickers, clapping a hand on the program’s shoulder to lead them both towards the City, “It’s called a haircut, man, I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

* * *

“A statue,” Clu says.

The program shakes violently as they nod, “Y-yes, Luminary, a statue. It… might boost the Occupation’s impression.”

Clu rolls his eyes and sits back in his seat, “Do you have any ideas for such a monument? Don’t waste my time or my system’s space, please.”

The program holds out a tablet, which projects a statue of… him? Clu leans forward, “This is _me,_ program.” A statue of him… in his original jacket, blue circuit and all.

“Yes, sir, Luminary.” The program is looking anywhere except Clu in front of them, “W-What better figurehead of the Grid is there?” They don’t sound too sure of their words.

Clu scowls, “and how are you so sure that the public won’t mistake this for Kevin Flynn?”

The program looks ready to shatter into voxels on the spot, “Sir, I— You said the Creator betrayed us, why would anyone—”

Clu stood, and was immediately in front of the cowering program in one stride, “The Creator _did_ betray the Grid.” He puts out a hand, gesturing with his words, “He betrayed _all of you_ , and he betrayed me.”

“Although, you’re right.” He looks up contemplatively, and sighs dramatically, “Something symbolic like that _would_ boost spirits around the cities.” Clu puts a hand on the program’s shoulder, murmurs, “ _If a single program mistakes me for that traitor because of your monument, be sure to have said you goodbyes beforehand._ ” He steps back and breaks into a too wide smile, “And maybe alter the design to incorporate my robe. I was told that silhouette suits me more.”

The program nods and scurries out of the room faster than a gridbug with no purpose.

* * *

“ _Look at you, man._

 _Look at the size of you!_ ”

This wasn't his father.

* * *

He didn't hear the door creak open.

“Flynn?”

He turns abruptly to look at where Quorra peeks around the half open bedroom door. Flynn laughs, the sound coming from somewhere within his stomach, “Sorry, sorry, Quorra, didn’t mean to invade your room while you were out.”

Quorra waved the apology aside as she stepped into her bedroom, “What were you doing?”

The User looks back to where he stood just a moment before, in front of Quorra’s ornate mirror. “Just, uh,” Flynn observes his reflection closely once more, bringing his hand up to hold his chin, “looking at myself, I guess.” Quorra comes up beside him, bringing her hand up to do the same.

“I’m getting real old, aren’t I,” Flynn stares at his beard, now completely full on and definitely turning crisp white. 

Quorra quirks a brow to that, “You don’t look much different than you did last cycle.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” The ISO chirps back.

* * *

_“You look the same.”_

He hadn’t aged a day since he left, and almost looked younger. He could’ve passed as Sam’s own age. But for a split second, Sam didn’t care. That was his father, like twenty years of grief had had no effect, no stress lines, no grey hairs. Nothing.

That can’t be his father.

* * *

"My, my," Zuse tuts, sliding behind the bar with a flourish, "The Maker himself is _my_ little, old club? Well, I'm absolutely honor—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence." Clu looks up from his glass with a glare, “You know very well I’m not him.” 

Zuse mock pouts, before reaching around the bar to pull a bunch of colorful vials and bottles of energy out onto the bartop. He takes an empty glass and pours a vial of green energy in it before speaking again, “So, my dear Clu, what brings you here on this fine microcycle?”

Clu fixates on the energy in his glass, tracing one bubble race to the surface, “Tron and Flynn went racing in the Outlands again.” He glances up as Zuse throws some more unknown energy components into whatever cocktail he was making, “Y’know, you’re the third program this cycle who’s mistaken me for Flynn.”

“Oh no, I knew it was you,” Zuse plucks a tiny umbrella from a container behind him and plops it into his drink. “And to be honest, the two of you only look similar when you squint,” He says, squinting to prove it.

The Likeness Utility rolls his eyes.

“Could be the jacket,” Zuse remarks, taking an experimental sip of his concoction.

“The jacket?”

Zuse nods, “Ever considered donning green? That might suit you.” Clu frowns to himself. “Or have you ever thought about changing your circuits altogether? You should be capable of doing that, as far as I’ve heard,” Zuse swirls the energy in his glass, “Might help establish you as your own program and not just the Copy of the Almighty.”

Just then, a small ping of [ _RETURNED!_ ] sounded in the back of Clu’s mind. He gets up from the bar, pushing the empty glass towards Zuse, “I’ll think about it. Business calls” 

“Ah, nice,” The white haired program nods to him as he turns to the exit.

“Oh, and a robe!” Zuse called after him with a wave, “A robe might add more variety to your silhouette!”

* * *

They were at the Arcade, Flynn had just announced he was going to (finally) move out of the office upstairs and into a proper house with Jordan, so he’d invited Alan and Lora back up to the place where it all began for one last chilled beer. Lora had politely declined, and made Alan go as compensation (though he would’ve gone anyway).

It was late, and the pink neon was starting to hurt their eyes.

“Hey, Alan,” Flynn’s head lolls to the side to face the other man on the couch opposite him, “have I told you computer programs looked exactly like their programmers?”

Alan rolled his eyes, leaning as far into Flynn’s low cushion-couch-thing as he could as an attempt to un-crick his back, “Not yet, you haven’t.”

“Well, they do.” Flynn smiled, eyes closing, head leaning back on the couch, “I would know.” The other man hummed in sarcastic agreement, _sure you do_. “Hey, I’m not lying man,” Flynn tries to sit up, “Tron has your smile. The best smile.”

Alan’s brows furrow as he shoots Flynn an amused look, “and I’m sure your program has the best ass?”

The younger programmer laughs, a heavy but beautiful, celebratory sound, “No, man, _Tron’s_ definitely got the best ass.” Flynn’s eyes are still closed, posture comfortable on the vinyl couch cushion below him, and he adds softly, “My program… He’d have my boyish good looks though. Irresistible.”

“Boyish?” Alan scoffs quietly, “Hardly.”

“But you do agree, I’m irresistible?”

“No comment.”

Flynn shoots him with a fake hurt look, which holds for barely a second before the pair splits into soft laughter as the pink lights blink into orange.

* * *

_“You're big.”_

_“You're…”_

_“Old.”_

  
That’s his _son._ After everything, a thousand cycles of falling, that’s _his_ son, in front of him. And his son recognised him.

* * *

It was usually Tron who escorted Flynn back to the portal, but the security monitor had been in desperate need of reboot and the only way Flynn could get him to actually get some sleep was to agree to having Clu walk him back to the portal this once.

The pair walked slowly along the empty street. Flynn glanced over at Clu, who was still typing away on his tablet despite the fact that his designated work cycles were over. The program was still clearly ruminating the structural plans for the newest sector, his face in a gentle frown as he read through the new data. There wasn’t a program population here yet, but every building needed to be perfect and suited for living for whenever the population did arrive.

It was strange, seeing his likeness outside himself like this. Flynn didn’t like to think of Clu as a copy, or a clone, or a reflection of himself. Clu was another being, someone completely separate, who just happened to share his face.

But Flynn was sleep deprived and bored, and the sound of their footsteps echoing in the empty streets was about to drive him crazy. 

“If I did something wrong,” Flynn started, before realising the program hadn’t heard him at all, “Clu.” 

“Hm?” Clu looked up.

“If I did something wrong, would you tell me?” Flynn repeated, folding his arms behind his head as they walked, “Like, if I ever did anything that didn’t make sense or was just… downright wrong, would you tell me?”

Clu looked at him questioningly, “Why would you do something wrong?”

 _Oh boy_. “Well,” Flynn cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’m just a User. Making mistakes and flubbing is normal. But I can’t afford too much of that in here.” He looks out into the unpopulated streets. The city was in a constant state of midnight, and was a constant reminder of the world he’d left at a too late hour. “This place needs to be perfect for whoever this world belongs to next,” Flynn adds.

“Well, if me correcting you would help us make the perfect system,” Clu states plainly, “Then of course I’d do that.”

Flynn chuckles at that, “Hopefully that doesn’t ever need to happen.”

The pair continues walking for a few beats of silence before Flynn glances at Clu again, who’s since returned his attention to the data.

“You changed your hair,” The User points out.

Clu looks up and instinctively brings up a hand to the back of his neck, “Oh, yes. Your ‘haircut’ inspired me to brush it back a little.”

Flynn smiles, “Looks good, man!”

* * *

As the light grew brighter, they were nearly one in the same once more.

And for better or worse, they were gone in the same flash.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by When We Played by Matthew Komatsu and Reflections by Daft Punk from the TRON: Legacy Soundtrack.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ fulcrvm (main) and @ quorras (tron sb)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
